


I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave

by CaffeineChic



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon, but they would love to think otherwise, pair of dummies, they are both truly such soft idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 07:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20903963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeineChic/pseuds/CaffeineChic
Summary: “I do hope I’m not interrupting,” Aziraphale said in a way that was clear he had both better be interrupting, while also highly inconveniencing the young man who was currently occupying what should have been the angel’s chair.





	I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave

“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” Aziraphale said in a way that was clear he had both better be interrupting, while also highly inconveniencing the young man -- dark haired, tall, exquisitely dressed -- who was currently occupying what should have been the angel’s chair.

Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale had appeared as if by magic, which all things considered wasn’t actually outside the realm of possibility.

The young man flicked his gaze at him for half a second and answered with a dismissive wave of his hand, as though he could bat Aziraphale away -- like he was an inconvenience, not worth even turning his head. “You are.”

“You are definitely not.” Crowley’s answer was directed at the poor sod. His sunglasses did nothing to hide the hardening of his features. The grin was gone. No one dismissed Aziraphale on his watch. 

(And he was always watching.)

A beat. Aziraphale squared his shoulders. 

Todd? Ted? -- Crowley hadn’t been listening -- remained seated. 

The human had been a distraction to wile away the minutes until Aziraphale arrived. A minor amusement when he’d joined Crowley without invitation, dripping of unearned wealth and the type of confidence that came hand in hand with it. 

Hell would love him. 

Crowley’s affections were previously and permanently engaged elsewhere. (About 2 feet to the right of his current eyeline.)

“You’re late, angel.”

“I had a customer.” Aziraphale said it in a tone that belied the fact that getting rid of the customer and the annoyance of having to deal with someone actually attempting to purchase one of his books was the issue, rather than having been delayed by a sale.

Tim or Travis or Tyler, who was so far out of his depth that he was essentially drowning on dry land, looked between Aziraphale and back to Crowley. And again. He had the nerve to scoff -- “Him? Really?”

A noise that could only be fairly described as a growl rose from Crowley’s throat -- he could see the angel twitching, no doubt oscillating between the urge to tell the demon to behave in public and telling the youth to get on with going before he helped him directly out of the chair. He did enjoy a twitchy angel, though perhaps today was not the day for it -- Aziraphale had had a customer after all. 

“Are you still here, Tom?” The ‘still’ slithered and hissed and rasped its way across the table. The air crackled. “And yes, him. Always him.” 

Aziraphale flushed. Oh, that was new. 

“It’s James.” 

(Crowley  _ really _ hadn’t been listening.

He wasn’t listening now, either.)

His gaze fixed fully on Aziraphale. “Sure, Toby -- time for you to be on your merry way. My angel’s arrived.”

Crowley was well aware how that phrase turned in human ears.

(The flush that had now fully peaked to Aziraphale’s cheeks told him it didn’t turn much differently in ethereal ones.)

The angel in question let loose the tension through his shoulders -- “ _ Crowley, _ ” sighed out softly, gently. 

A muttering from the human, intending to be heard -- “You really can’t buy taste.”

Crowley grinned again -- wide, expansive, dangerous -- and stretched out a leg to topple the interloper out of Aziraphale’s chair. “Be gone with you.”

James’s outraged squawk fell on deaf ears -- he tried to regain his dignity as he stood with a huff, misdirecting his irritation away from Crowley and towards -- 

(Should he ever wonder, it was the half step he took in Aziraphale’s direction that straightened Crowley’s back.)

“Do you know who -- ” Whatever James was about to say next dropped into the ether, lost forever -- a snap of fingers, a pointed gaze. 

(A demonic miracle pulled upwards and out, levelled at the human. Nothing malevolent, not really, not truly -- not yet. 

But --

...if James felt as though regret was a shadow spiraling from the floor to coil around his back

...if he was feeling as though it was whispering over his skin, raising hairs and gooseflesh, while it ringleted around his being 

...if he felt like every pain he had caused another person was starting to claw across his body demanding answer then -- 

_ Maybe,  _ Crowley thought, _ he should be living better, have less to regret _ .

Besides, who this human was couldn’t have mattered less to Crowley now -- the fool had advanced at Aziraphale. He could add that to his malfeasances.)

James stood rooted to the spot -- clasped in contrition, confusion. 

“Crowley -- ” His angel had definitely not sighed that time.

The demon let go his hold. 

A hand on the man’s shoulder -- Aziraphale spoke easily, quietly -- “You were just leaving.” 

“I was just leaving.” Dazed, and rethinking a great deal of his life, James wandered back to his own table. 

(He would be fine, he would be a better human. For a time. Free will didn’t guarantee penitent behaviour.)

Aziraphale righted and claimed his seat, unfolding a napkin into his lap -- with barely an admonishment to his tone, “Really, my dear.”

Crowley shrugged, “I’m a demon, I attract a bad element.” He sat back, took in the picture before him -- Aziraphale steady and peaceful, cozying into his chair, giddy in reviewing a menu he knew by heart -- glancing and glittering smiles in Crowley's direction.

(He suddenly felt awash with daring, the world anew, his angel at his table.) 

“Maybe not just  _ bad _ elements, eh?” He raised his eyebrows over the stop of his sunglasses -- beaming, bold. Crowley fully expected Aziraphale to flutter and flail delicately. 

“Yes, well.” The angel ducked his head, blushed right through the tips of ears, denied nothing. 

Well indeed. (Crowley lounged back in his chair and felt the future outspread before him, before them.)

There was food to be had, and wine to be drunk. 

And if Crowley’s grit held out there might be the toe of a snake-skinned boot that would be able to find its way a couple of inches up a pair of cream corduroys. 

He wondered what kind of blush  _ that _ would induce. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far!
> 
> I made my poor wife read this so many times before I posted  
[CaffeineChic on Tumblr](http://caffeinechic.tumblr.com)


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